The collected poems of Arthur Edward Waite in two volumes ... With a Portrait |
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
|
 | The collected poems of Arthur Edward Waite |  |
167
THE THIRD SCROLL
THE EXPENDED WAYS
Ah! whither now shall one bewray'd,
Through listless paths and wrack
Of longing, dull'd but not allay'd,
Descry the true way back?
Through listless paths and wrack
Of longing, dull'd but not allay'd,
Descry the true way back?
The mists about me crawl and creep,
Warm folds, which swathe and wind,
The swooning soul in languor steep,
And every nerve unbind.
Warm folds, which swathe and wind,
The swooning soul in languor steep,
And every nerve unbind.
Landscape and seascape far and near
Are voiceless, void and grey;
Thought sets as moon, if moon were here,
Where two eves make one day.
Are voiceless, void and grey;
Thought sets as moon, if moon were here,
Where two eves make one day.
This pallid screen, which hangs between
All-kindling heaven and earth,
Can bring no purpose fair and clean—
In sodden light—to birth.
All-kindling heaven and earth,
Can bring no purpose fair and clean—
In sodden light—to birth.
O the worn way and the lorn way,
And the way that never ends,
Where the light is as the night is,
But never night descends!
And the way that never ends,
Where the light is as the night is,
But never night descends!
The shapes of all things form and fade,
With outlines vague and strange;
While the pace is slow for the pulse is stay'd,
Where nothing is swift but change;
With outlines vague and strange;
While the pace is slow for the pulse is stay'd,
Where nothing is swift but change;
168
And the male rose blooms like the maiden rose
And the maid like the man appears:
Is it night or noon in the sky? God knows—
But the dark mist flows with tears!
And the maid like the man appears:
Is it night or noon in the sky? God knows—
But the dark mist flows with tears!
Body and ghost are spectres pale,
Shadow and substance fuse in one,
The back-view melts and the prospects fail—
Who knoweth of star or sun?
Shadow and substance fuse in one,
The back-view melts and the prospects fail—
Who knoweth of star or sun?
Mind cannot think, nor sad heart dream,
Maim'd by the dreary spell,
Whence none can issue, by road or stream:
Take the woodland, try the dell;
Maim'd by the dreary spell,
Whence none can issue, by road or stream:
Take the woodland, try the dell;
Try the ghostly, moaning mere,
Take the sand-strewn ways of weed—
Who shall sail and who shall steer?
Who shall spur the flagging steed?
Take the sand-strewn ways of weed—
Who shall sail and who shall steer?
Who shall spur the flagging steed?
O for a bolt from heaven to fall,
For a rain to follow fast!
Waste and ravage of storm, or all
The strength of a clarion blast!
For a rain to follow fast!
Waste and ravage of storm, or all
The strength of a clarion blast!
I yearn for the rainbow's farther side!
I dream of the golden key!
The angel-priest where the ways divide
And the Cup of the Mystery!
I dream of the golden key!
The angel-priest where the ways divide
And the Cup of the Mystery!
The convent gate and the heights untrod
In a silent world of ice!
I ask but to gaze on the hand of God
As it shuts me from Paradise.
In a silent world of ice!
I ask but to gaze on the hand of God
As it shuts me from Paradise.
| The collected poems of Arthur Edward Waite | |